American horror story
by TimbreWuulf
Summary: "What is happening to my world! Okay, so normal wasn't a word I used to describe my life. But this? This is nuts! Who are these guys? And where did they come from!" OC meets Winchester brothers after a freak turn of events puts her life in danger. Last minute heroes save the day again. But at what cost? Rated M for language and graphic imagery... Set in early season two.


**Disclaimer: I am not, nor do I claim to be, owner to the characters and events portrayed in the show Supernatural. This story, and all those that follow, have been written for entertainment purposes only. **

**Reviews are appreciated, but not expected. :)**

**Texas, 15 miles outside of Crossroads...**

**M**y hands were shaking, and nothing I could do would make them stop. Moments ago I had given myself up for dead. Dead like all my friends.

Dead like my sister, and my step-father, and my mother... I sobbed quietly and the sick feeling in my gut, like vertigo but times ten, returned with a vengeance. With tear blurred eyes I looked up at my last minute rescuers.

The taller, younger of the two stood near the center of the room, a sawn-off shotgun in his hand. He scanned the room, all senses on high alert. The shorter, but older and, in any other situation ruggedly handsome, of them took one look at me and something about him visibly softened.

Some small, functioning, and still slightly sarcastic part of my disheveled mind immediately rebelled against him. He looked like the kind of man that all little girls are warned about. As he neared me I instinctively forced myself away from him, and was embarrassed to realize the terrified whimper I heard was my own.

"It's okay. You're safe now. We're gonna get you outta here." he said calmly, trying for a soothing tone. He held his hands out palms up, in front of him, inching toward me.

Like a cornered animal, I lashed out, backing farther away before bumping against a door frame. I scrambled past it, into the next room, and then wished I hadn't when my hand fell into a pool of blood. Barely breathing, I stared down at my friend Andy's corpse, frozen in horror.

I'd been standing right next to Andy when it happened. Andy hadn't stood a chance.

With a sudden realization of self, I slammed backwards against the wall and covered my mouth with the back of my hand, stifling a strangled cry. I clenched my eyes shut, but the darkness only made the images more clear.

B

eth had just said something funny, but I'd missed it. The others had heard though, and they burst into raucous laughter. Andy hadn't laughed. But then, he never had been one for jokes.

Beth's eyes flew wide suddenly, and next to her Janie shrieked. Andy grabbed my arm, hard enough to make me wince. I looked at him and he frowned back, mouth contorted in pain, eyes confused.

From his chest, beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, a sharp end of metal.

A hook.

I drew in a breath to scream and...

H

e grabbed me by the shoulders, dragging me back to reality. I yelped, knocking his hands aside and scrambling away from him. He started to reach for me again and I held my hands up in the universal 'back off' gesture.

"Don't!" I shouted, moving back another foot or so. He frowned down at me, concerned, but didn't reach for me again. I glanced down at Andy one last time, fighting back my revulsion, and rubbed my bloodied hand on my jeans furiously. When the red stain remained, I stormed past him into the kitchen and fought it with soap and scalding water. Finally it was gone, and I turned around, leaning against the counter, exhausted.

"So, who are you?" I asked the oldest, tilting my head to look at him. He glanced at the younger, who nodded, and turned back to me.

"I'm Dean, this is Sam. We're...State Troopers." he said, nodding his head toward the other. I stared at him, appraising him with disbelief.

"That's a load of Bull. Who are you really?" I replied, and he blinked, shocked to silence. He glanced at the one called Sam and opened his mouth, then he closed it and frowned at me. Sam sighed, stepping forward.

"Look, we're brothers, alright. And we...we hunt evil things." He said, and Dean's frown turned from confusion to agitation. I glanced at him and he nodded with a regretful expression.

"Evil? Like...demons?" I asked, feeling ice form in the pit of my stomach. Sam paused a moment, and then nodded.

"Something like that..." he said with a short nod before turning around, watching the doorway. I swayed, my knees suddenly weak.

"And...is that..._thing_...a demon..?" I asked slowly, voice hoarse. Dean stepped up then and I looked at him, feeling cold, weak, and sick all at once. I saw a flash of a sympathetic look on his face and hung my head, how ridiculous, pity from a stranger.

"No. It's not a demon. It's just a ghost. A really sadistic, pissed off ghost, but it's kill-able." he said, and I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. A small bubble of hysteria rose up in my chest and burst, and I chuckled dryly. Pushing away from the counter, I wandered across the room and leaned against the wall.

"Kill-able? How do you kill a ghost?!" I skeptically replied, and slid to the floor, suddenly nauseous again. I buried my face in my hands and tried to focus on steady breathing, but the metallic smell in the air just made it worse.

Underneath the table to my left, something scraped, catching my attention. I glanced over and didn't catch the scream in time, split-second reacting and throwing myself to the right.

His Sickle arced through the air toward me and images of Beth's death flashed into my head.

**"Shh!"** I warned for the fifth were in the hall closet, cramped and dusty. I placed my ear against the door again and closed my eyes, holding my breath. I could hear my sister whispering frantically to Janie as they hid in the room next door. Silently I begged her to shut up, so he wouldn't hear her.

I gasped as I heard his first footfall near the end of the hall, to our left. I shoved Beth, who was babbling incoherently, toward the back of the small space, trying to cover her with a coat. I shushed her again, If she didn't stop muttering he would know we were in here.

As if on que the floorboards creaked. I crouched, smashing myself as far back into the dark corner as I could go, pulling the winter coats over myself. Beth was unfazed, she clutched her rosary in white knuckled hands, and continued to babble.

The door burst open, light flooded the small room, flashing off the surface of the sickle as it sliced upward to bury itself in the base of Beth's jaw. I forced myself not to flinch as the tip burst from the middle of her forehead. Beth gasped, choking on her own blood, which pooled out of her mouth and drizzled down her neck. Her eyes rolled back in her skull and her body went limp. With one hand, the killer steadied her head, fighting the blade free. He cleaned it carefully, using her shirt to wipe the blood from the silvery surface, and turned away.

Minutes later I heard the door to the cupboard under the stairs slam open and he dragged my friend Chris, kicking and screaming, past the open closet door. I covered my mouth to keep any sound from escaping and listened. The killer dragged him into the room next door and his screaming stopped suddenly. Only to be replaced by the screams of my little sister. I leaped to my feet, yelling her name...

**T**he rock-salt stung as it seared across my face, bringing me back to reality. The ghost disintegrated in a cloud of ash as the salt made contact with it. I stared at the spot for a moment, waiting for my brain to kick in so I could breath again. Dean leaned down and lifted me to my feet, throwing an arm across my shoulders as an afterthought. My knees shook and I clenched my teeth to keep them from knocking together.

"Thanks." I mumbled as he led me away from the doorway, "Nice shot." I added to Sam as we passed him. He gave a short nod, the corner of his mouth twitching up. My hand went unconsciously to my throat, fingering my pendent. The movement drew Sam's attention and he frowned slightly.

"Is that..a pentagram?" he asked. I looked up at him, then glanced down.

"Oh, yeah. It was a gift." I said quietly, then I looked up at him, "I'm not, a Satanist, or a Wiccan or anything though. No black magic here." I added, I didn't want to give them the wrong idea. Although, I didn't see that it mattered much anyway, I didn't even know them. He smiled and shook his head.

"You know, none of that stuff is true about the pentagram. They actually protect _against_ evil things." he said, then he reached out to take hold of the pendent, examining it closer, "Someone really knew their stuff. This is old. And pure silver too. And these markings. This is some heavy protection magic. It's no _wonder _you're still alive." he mused, and I glanced at him, incredulous.

"So, what? My _necklace_ is why I'm alive and everyone else...is..." I choked, covering my mouth as fresh tears sprang to my eyes, "That's _rich_." I muttered, turning away.

"Come on. Let's get you out of here." Dean said, holding his hand out. I took it and let him lead me from the room, my thoughts elsewhere. It took a moment for my mind to really _lock on_ to where we were headed, but it snapped to focus as he opened the back door and stepped onto the porch. I gasped in a breath to stop him, but it was too late. My gaze fell on the pool of blood and chunks and I made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a gag, turning away to bury my face in his shirt front.

"Inside! Go back inside!" I cried breathlessly trying to shove him back into the house.

"What the-" he started to say, but was cut off by a snarl. I threw my weight against him, wrapping my leg around his to trip him. We fell through the doorway and I rolled off of him, sitting up and kicking the door closed just before my dog reached it. I heard the wood splinter as his teeth and claws dug into it and whimpered. That had nearly been us.

"The hell?" Dean shouted, pulling himself backwards away from the door. I stood slowly and stepped forward to look out the high window, my dog jumped up, foaming at the mouth, and barked against the glass.

"That's Monty. He used to be mine." I said miserably, glancing up as Dean joined me at the window.

"And...the blood..?" he asked hesitantly. I flinched as if I'd been slapped, and the force of the sob I fought down made me double over, clutching my stomach.

"Mae, my baby sister..." I whispered, voice shaking as I straightened up and turned my head away from the glass, " He cut the tendon, in the back of her leg...did you know that the muscle there is so tight, it _squeals _when it's cut...?" He shook his head, slightly horrified.

"I do now..." I sobbed quietly, hanging my head, "She screamed so loud! And then he dragged her into the yard...and..." I clutched my head, and had to stop. I would be sick if I didn't.

"Her whole life, those dogs never _once_, even _accidentally _hurt her...but..they.." I hiccuped and had to move away from the door. Dean moved with me, placing a gentle hand on my back.

"It had to've been this spirit. I mean, he could've gotten into their heads somehow." he said, and I clenched my fists.

"Dean. I want to kill him." I said through clenched teeth, then I paused realizing what I'd just said. I'd never felt that way about anything in my life. I turned to him, slightly scared.

"Does that make me...evil..?" I asked, and his face softened.

"No." he said simply, wrapping an arm around my shoulder's and pulling me against his chest. The small familiar act comforted me, and I felt a little calmer when he let me go again.

"You still haven't told us your name." he said, leading me back to the kitchen. I wiped my eyes, sniffling. Sam turned as we entered and Dean made a motion to him that I assumed meant not to go out that way. He nodded and glanced at me, concerned.

"My friends called me Ace." I said, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows. He smiled, digging into a duffel bag on the table.

"Hope that means you're a good shot." He said, handing me a sawn-off shotgun and a belt of slugs. I chuckled, slinging the belt over my shoulders, 'Rambo-style'. Then I hefted the shotgun, testing it's handle.

"You've got no idea." I said quietly, lining down the sights, not that I'd need them. That I was a good shot was _exactly_ the reason my friends called me Ace. I hardly ever missed.

"Alright Sammy, any bright ideas on how to kill this thing?" Dean said, pulling an almost identical shotgun out of the duffel.

"It's gotta be attached to something." he said, digging around on the counter. I thought back to the few times I'd gotten a good look at the killer. And then it hit me, and I slapped my forehead. The boys both paused, looking at me.

"You got something?" Dean queried, raising an eyebrow at me. I crossed the room, opening a drawer and digging around.

"Few days back my step-dad bought this really old rosary from a church auction. He resells stuff like that. That's why the ghost is here, it's attached to that freaking cross." I explained as I dug.

"Well, that's great, we can burn it and maybe we'll kill this bastard." Dean said relieved, "Where is it?" he added.

I snatched the key I needed out of the jumble in the drawer and spun around. Then the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

"In..the safe..in my parent's room..." I said numbly, my gaze slowly turning on the doorway to the living room.

"Ace? What's wrong?" Sam asked, frowning in concern, "What else is in there?"

"My...parents..." I said and shook myself, turning back to them, "Dean? Will you go with me?" I pleaded. He nodded and glanced at Sam before we left, expression unreadable.

I skirted Andy's corpse, trying hard not to look at him. And when we turned down the hall I hurried past both the closet and my room, averting my eyes. Dean made a gagging noise behind me, pausing to assess the damage, and I let out a small pained sound. A few feet in front of me, the door to my parents' room stood slightly ajar. I could already smell the death and coagulated blood in the room.

"Ace? You okay?" Dean asked, coming up behind me and putting a hand on my shoulder. I felt my face contort in anguish, and made another small noise of pain.

"No..." I murmured, and I took a deep breath, "I don't wanna go in there..." I added in a whisper, and looked up at him. He sighed, giving me a look of sympathy.

"Look, I can go alone...You don't have to-"

"Yes I do." I said, cutting him off, and he paused then nodded, squeezing my shoulder softly. I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat and forced myself to walk into the room. Both my parents were exactly as the ghost left them. My mother lay in bed, throat slit. At least she died easy.

My dad lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, his entrails tailing behind him, his eyes and mouth gaping. I shuddered, whimpering, and looked at the wall, fighting to keep my composure. Dean stepped up to the doorway and swore, taking in the scene with wide eyes.

"Ace, come back. I'll get it. You just get outta there." He said suddenly, looking at me with a hard expression. I stared back at him. I was already standing in a pool of my dad's blood. I had come too far to turn back now.

I shook my head, pulling my game face on and turning away from him, toward the far wall. With my mental blinders on, I walked to the safe, flinching when my foot slid slightly in the blood. I pulled the key from my pocket and knelt, yanking the hidden wall panel free and setting it aside. From there it was simple, insert the key into it's designated slot and punch in the four digit code on the key-pad. I remembered the code because it was the one date I could never forget. My birthday, April fourth, nineteen eighty-eight. And then it hit me, today was April fourth. My birthday...

I swung the door open, feeling numb, and dug out the small velvet box that held the cross. Another box caught my eye. It was around the same size as the one I already held, and attached was a small note that read "To Ace, on her birthday. We love you!" I frowned, reaching in and opening it.

There was a thin, but sturdy silver chain, and from it hung a tiny silver wolf, with the smallest emeralds I'd ever seen for eyes. I felt tears pooling as I slipped it down my wrist, and closed my eyes for a few seconds.

When I'd regained my composure, I looked back to the safe and grabbed the stack of paper money that my mom had kept for emergencies. I figured she wasn't going to need it anymore, so I folded it and stuffed it into my back pocket, turning to leave.

I never managed to stand. The ghost was on me in a split-second, and I barely had time to gasp before it pinned me to the floor and swung the sickle toward my heart. A blast of rock-salt forced it away, but I knew it would be back. We nearly had it.

"Dean!" I shouted, and tossed the box over the bed, trusting him to catch it.

"What about you?" he demanded, and I pulled myself to my feet.

"I'm right behind you. Go!" I said, jumping onto the bed and launching myself for the door. I managed to get halfway down the hall before It stopped me, catching me by the shoulder with the blade. I yelped, and Dean turned back, leveling his gun. But it was behind me, and he didn't have a clear shot.

"Just go!" I yelled, then cried out as the ghost worked the blade free. Dean cursed and disappeared around the corner. It shoved me from behind and I tried to catch myself, immediately regretting it as the gash in my shoulder spat blood onto the floor in front of me. Hissing between my teeth, I rolled over and narrowly avoided being impaled through the gut. I scrabbled for the gun, and managed to fire it just as he went for another blow to my stomach.

He vanished again and I lurched to my feet, running at a half-stumble to the corner. As I fell into the living room It appeared to my right, taking a swing at my head. I ducked and tripped on the edge of the carpet, rolling as I hit the floor.

"Dean! Hurry up!" I shouted, scrambling out of harm's way as yet again, the ghost sliced toward me. My hand fell into the puddle of Andy's blood and my stomach turned over. I glanced down at him, and didn't see the blade until it was too late. It entered below my collar bone, and exited just next to my shoulder blade. I felt the cold of the metal first. Then a sharp spike of pain and a gut-wrenching tear. I couldn't have stopped the scream if I'd wanted to. And it stung my throat as it wound it's way up.

A wicked smile stretched across It's face, and it pulled the blade free viciously. I cried out, the blade nicking my collar-bone on it's way out. And barely registered the blast of rock-salt, or the shout. My vision tunneled and I felt my stomach turn. I swallowed and suddenly was jerked to my feet, snapping back to reality. I whimpered, gasping as my shoulder bumped against Sam's chest. He was pulling me along with him, heading back to the kitchen.

Dean looked up as we entered, he was in the middle of a search through the cabinets. But when he saw me, he dropped it and hurried over, helping me sit in a dining chair.

"You okay?" He asked, and I rolled my eyes toward him, my face skeptical.

"Do I _look_ okay?" I demanded weakly. He grinned and patted my leg.

"Atta-girl." he whispered, and stood, crossing back to the cabinets.

"Where do you keep the lighter fluid?" he asked, opening a door expectantly, only to find cereal.

"In the bottom cabinet, next to the stove." I said, words slightly slurred. Sam showed up at my side with a hand towel. He pressed it to my shoulder and I yelped, clenching my eyes shut against the pain.

"Sorry." he murmured, and I nodded, holding the bandage to the wound gingerly. Dean came over and dumped his spoils onto the table top. Sam disappeared and came back with one of the empty tin trash cans from the pantry.

"You wanna do the honors?" Dean asked me, but I didn't have time to reply. I felt a sharp pain in my chest and cringed, looking down. The scythe was buried a good half inch into my side, just below my ribs.

"Seriously?!" I breathed, incredulous, and looked up at the spirit. Sam blasted it again, but not before It smiled at me. It wanted me dead, I could tell.

"Sam." Dean growled, dropping down next to me and pressing his hand to the now gushing wound. Without another word, Sam dropped the rosary into the can and doused it with lighter fluid. He lit a book of matches and dropped it into the mix, flames roaring to life. Then he crossed to the counter, snatched up the stack of newspapers there and dropped them on top.

I started to black out, but I glimpsed him carrying the whole can into the living room before I lost it completely.

**I** didn't expect to see anyone when I woke up. Honestly, I didn't really _expect_ to wake up. But, I did.

And the first thing I saw was Dean, passed out on the edge of my hospital bed. I knew it was a hospital, because I could smell the antiseptic and the sick people.

Sam was across the room, reading by the dim light of the only lamp. I smiled, he reminded me of someone. My gut clenched when I realized it was Chris, he was that bookworm, always curled up somewhere with yet another of his mysteries.

I pushed the thought away and struggled to pull myself higher on the pillow.

"So, you guys stuck around?" I asked quietly, my voice hoarse. Sam glanced up from his book, startled. He stood, leaving it on his chair, and approached the bed with a small smile.

"Hey. Yeah, um, Dean..he didn't wanna leave until he knew you were okay...You kinda..scared the hell outta him." he explained, standing awkwardly beside his brother.

I grimaced, glancing at Dean and sighing.

"Truthfully, I scared myself too...I thought I was a goner." I whispered, watching him sleep for a few moments. I stretched out a weak hand, and like I'd done to Beth and Janie nearly a hundred times, I set the tip of my finger against the tip of his nose.

He frowned in his sleep and and wrinkled his nose. Sam and I chuckled quietly, and I was surprised to realize the action hurt.

"Dean," Sam said, shaking his brother's shoulder, "Dean, Wake up." With an incoherent exclamation, Dean sat up and rubbed his face. He looked up at Sam with a childish expression.

"Dude." he groaned groggily. I smiled, pulling on his sleeve lightly.

"I'm up." I said quietly, and he turned to me, surprised, and then relieved. He grinned, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Hey. How ya feelin?" he said and I felt my smile falter. I was torn up, inside and out. My heart hurt, and my head was swimming in pain meds and post trauma.

"I'm alive." I said quietly and he nodded, the smile leaving his eyes for a moment.

"Well, that's something." he said knowingly, and I looked at my lap. Sam moved around to the other side of the bed and settled on the edge, exchanging a glance with Dean that I could tell meant I wouldn't like what I was about to hear.

"What is it?" I asked, looking between them. Dean chewed his lip, and Sam suddenly found something really interesting on his jacket sleeve.

"Um, Ace...we kind of...had to..." Sam started to say and Dean cut him off.

"Your house burned down." he said bluntly, and Sam scowled at him disapprovingly. A thrill of cold ran down my back and my hands curled into fists.

"So...the police probably think it was a tragic accident then, huh?" I asked numbly, as I stared at the area somewhere near my knees and tried to stay calm. They nodded, looking at each other again.

"Yeah. If they thought for even one second that you might be responsible, they'd come after you. We figured the least we could do was keep that from happening." Dean explained, patting my leg comfortingly. I smiled half-heartedly. And then felt it fall from my face as I realized there was one thing they missed.

"What about outside?" I asked, blinking and turning my gaze to Sam. He frowned, shaking his head with a confused look in his eye.

"What _about_ outside?" Dean asked and I shuddered, my heart rate jumping.

"J...Janie...didn't die in the house..." I said, feeling the bottom drop out of my stomach as I replayed the events leading to her death.

"He didn't...kill her in the house...he...he dragged her away...when we tried to run..." I shuddered again. Hers was the hardest, and scariest. Because it had nearly been me. Janie had seen him coming, and pushed me out of the way. His scythe had caught her in the shoulder. I'd tried to save her, tried to pull her away from him. But he was so much stronger than me, and my hands had slipped out of her grasp.

"Just run! Lissy, get out of here!" She'd screamed. She was the only person that ever called me Lissy. And now, no one ever would again.

He'd dragged her, screaming, into the dark. And I had panicked, running back to the house and hiding in the kitchen pantry. I had a feeling that her face, contorted in terror and anguish, would haunt me for the rest of my life.

"Ace, your family has a lot of land out there. There's a chance they might _never_ find her body..." Sam said and I chuckled dryly.

"That supposed to make me feel better...?" I whispered, and glanced up at him. He frowned sympathetically and Dean looked down at the bed.

"Well, at least you're alive kid. Could be worse." Dean said quietly, and stood to leave.

"W-wait!" I yelped, and he froze, turning on me in confusion, "Um...thank you. You guys saved my life back there..." I murmured, and he softened, the corner of his mouth twitching up. I glanced at Sam and held out my hand to him. He stood, and took my hand, Dean grasped my other and I pulled him toward me. He caught himself on the edge of the bed and I kissed his cheek before letting him go. He stood with a surprised look and glanced at Sam, unsure what to say. Sam grinned at him and let me pull him down for a kiss too.

"You wanna know something really stupid...?" I asked, leaning back onto the pillows.

"Hmm?" Sam replied, as Dean wandered across the room.

"Yesterday was my birthday...I was gonna have a shot of whiskey with my parents to celebrate." I muttered, and Dean looked away, Sam just locked his jaw, "I turned eighteen..." I said with a half hearted smile, "Always thought my eighteenth birthday would be... well... definitely not a blood bath, that's for sure."

My body forced an involuntary yawn and they both glanced back at me.

"Are you going to leave, or will you be here when I wake up...?" I asked, and Sam glanced at his brother. Dean shrugged and he looked at me.

"We'll see. We don't have another job lined up, so we have a little time." He said, and I nodded, closing my eyes.

"I hope you do...I don't want to stay here alone..." I whispered, and felt myself slipping into sleep.

After all, there was nothing left for me here.

**T**hey stayed with me the three days it took me to convince the doctors to let me go.

Getting rid of the I.V. was the easy part. Once I got restless enough, I started stalking the halls. And after jumping out at a nurse from behind a door with an "Aha! OWW!" they decided that the line was more detrimental than beneficial.

On more than one occasion, Sam reprimanded me for my behavior, but he always did it while trying to hide a grin. He also teased me and Dean for how alike we were.

I had to admit to myself, he was right. We shared a surprising amount of traits, and it seemed like Dean found this both amusing and slightly annoying.

Day two, I woke up to only Dean, leaned back in his chair next to me, dozing. I grabbed a bendy straw and launched it up his nose to wake him, laughing until it hurt. He looked like he wanted to murder me, but he gave a quiet chuckle.

"So, where's Sam?" I prompted, and before he could reply, the younger brother walked in the door with four shopping bags full of stuff. I lifted my eyebrows, and Dean scowled.

"Dude? What the hell?" he grumbled, and Sam smirked.

"Dean, all her clothes are ruined. Or ashes. The least we could do was get her something to wear when she gets outta here." the younger brother replied, and Dean scoffed, standing up and going to the doorway, where he waited for Sam.

Sam crossed to me and dumped the bags on the foot of my bed. Then he shifted awkwardly, and I grabbed the nearest bag, pawing through it's contents.

"Um...I didn't really know your size, so I kinda guessed..." he mumbled, and I nodded with a smile. He was so sweet. Them my gut clenched and I lifted a pair of red silk underwear from the bag.

"Um..." I choked out, and he turned beet red.

"Yeah...d-just don't ask...okay?" he stammered, and stalked out of the room. Dean stared at me with an absurd expression, and then retreated after his brother. I started to drop the underwear, then I paused, and shrugged. Why the hell not?

Nearly ten minutes later, I had looked through every scrap of clothing and decided that there was definitely something wrong with women these days. The things they wear!

Anyway, I dressed in the least offending clothes and packed the rest of it into one bag. Going out to the boys in the hall and grinning at Sam.

"Thank you. You didn't have to, but I really appreciate it Sam." he smirked at my words and Dean raised an eyebrow at him. I perked myself up with the thought of food and smiled at them.

"So. I smell a pizza, and I dunno about you two, but I'm starving." I gushed, and spun on my heel, charging down the hall toward the tantalizing smell of cheesy, greasy meat pie.

O

n the third day, we walked out of the front doors and I followed them to their car, my bag of clothes clutched in my hands. All my carefully practiced cheer was falling apart at the thought of them leaving. And I was desperately trying to figure out how to convince them to let me stay with them.

And then I realized we'd stopped moving, that Sam was saying something to me. But when I looked up, my heart skipped a beat and my jaw dropped. For a moment I was dead to the world. And then the bag fell from my hands, and my knees shook, and I moved toward the car reverently, my hands hovering for a moment before I let myself touch it. Just so I knew it was real.

"Oh man. Oh man, oh man, oh man! You guys drive an Impala? " I gushed, and Dean's eyebrows shot up, Sam's too.

"Y-eah." Dean said shortly. I bit my lip.

"Aww, four doors, roll top, chrome decals. She's a sixty-seven isn't she? God that was a great year." I went on, slowly circling the car, and Dean looked more and more surprised by the second. I paused next to the driver's side and frowned slightly. Softly, my fingers flitted over a tiny pit of metal, barely noticeable.

"She's been rebuilt. Must have been some crash to tear up this baby. Steel skeleton is hard to crush..." I mused to myself, and looked away from the car to the blank, and confused, stares of her residents. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip again.

"S-sorry...I really like cars..." I said quietly, and Sam nodded, while Dean continued to stare at me.

"You can tell all that just by lookin at her?" he finally said quietly. And I nodded slowly.

"And more. I know that a _lot_ of blood has stained these seats. But most of it was yours. And I can tell that the trunk is hiding something, but it's not really obvious what." I replied, and his expression hardened. He glanced at Sam and then back at me and I shrugged.

"It's just a thing I can do. I dunno where it came from. I've been doin it my whole life," I explained, and they seemed only slightly convinced, "That's how I could tell right off the bat you two weren't troopers. And...that I could trust you..."

The hardness left Dean's face and he slipped past me, opening up the driver door and climbing in.

"Get in." he said shortly, hiking his thumb over the seat. I smiled and snatched the back door open, running to retrieve my bag and flinging myself into the backseat before closing the door carefully.

"So...does this mean I'm going with you guys?" I murmured, and Dean gave a short nod. Sam smiled softly at me and I leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes and smiling.

I wasn't going to be alone after all.

TBC


End file.
